Gunther

Gunther loses his apartment, so he moves into the shell of the Rally’s down the block. He brings a bedroll, a battery lantern and soap. He buys some vegetables. He finds an old drive-thru radio headset and wears it; the battery’s dead. The weather warms.

One evening, as he’s deciding to take off the headset and a layer of sweatshirts, it crackles for a second. “actory patterns,” it says, and goes silent again.

Bemused, Gunther goes outside to see if there’s somebody waiting out at the menu board. There isn’t. But on the ground sits a dingy blue hardback book.